Wicked Bite (Night Rebel #2)(45)

“Forget foreplay, I need you now,” I gasped.

Breath hit my hypersensitive nipple from his low laugh. “You call this need? You’re not even begging yet.”

Begging? That would take too long!

I tangled my legs in his and swept them out from under him. He fell and I landed on top of him, ripping his pants with a triumphant swipe. He rolled, trapping me beneath him with a wicked grin. At once, I held him with my thighs and arched, crying out when his hard flesh rubbed me where I ached the most.

His eyes closed, a guttural sound escaping him. Then they opened, glowing so bright it hurt to stare into them.

“You’ll beg later.” A threat that thrilled me as much as the hard yank that split my jeans from waist to ankle. “Right now, you’re mine.”

Every nerve ending jumped when he moved between my legs. I arched upward, so desperate to have him, a whimper escaped me. His mouth captured it as a hard thrust blasted pleasure all through me. His silver piercing burned in the sweetest way, its friction heightening sensations that already had me thrashing beneath him for more. My nails raked his back at his next thrust, and when he ground against my clitoris while buried deep inside me, the double blast of ecstasy tore a shout from me.

His kiss muffled that. His next thrust was just as hard, but slower, drawing the pleasure out until my skin felt too thin to contain it. I gripped his hips and cried out as another slow, deep thrust made inner bands convulsively tighten within me. The bunching of his muscles beneath my hands, each claiming kiss, his body against mine, and those hard, sinuous thrusts . . . I’d been dying of thirst, and now I was drowning.

It only took one more thrust before I came with a shout his mouth couldn’t completely muffle. His hips twisted, prolonging the rapture that shook me while all my limbs suddenly felt languorous and heavy. He muttered something I couldn’t make out, then his mouth and the blissful weight of his body was gone.

I didn’t have time to protest before he slid down between my legs. Then I gasped as his tongue seared over flesh that still pulsed and tingled from climax. I tried to sit up, but he pushed me back, grip tightening on my hips to hold me down.

I could barely think with his tongue moving over me, proving his memory had indeed returned because he found my most sensitive spots with ferocious accuracy. My hips rocked beneath the erotic barrage and soon, I was gasping until I sounded like I was hyperventilating.

“You are going to make me beg, aren’t you?” I moaned.

A dark laugh teased my quivering flesh. “Told you I would. Besides, I missed your taste.”

A breathless sound escaped me. “I missed everything.”

Another firm swirl of his tongue had my back off the floor as if he’d yanked on it. “With how fast you came, I believe that,” I heard him mutter.

Not even the explosive sensations his mouth elicited could stop me from telling him he’d misunderstood me. “As great as sex is with you”—my voice choked from emotion—“it’s the least of what I missed about you, Ian.”

He stopped, barely leashed wildness lurking in his gaze. I sat up and he didn’t stop me this time. I grabbed his hair and slid down as I pulled him forward. His body covered mine and I opened my legs, welcoming the thrust that filled me with the sharpest kind of rapture. Then I kissed him until I could no longer taste the salted honey of my pleasure on his mouth.

“I should never have left you.” The truth left me in a rush when I finally pulled away. “I am so, so sorry.”

His grip had been tight before. At that, it became bruising. His new roughness only made the pleasure more intense. I gave myself to it, telling him with my raking nails and the fangs I sank into his shoulder that I wanted more.

He gave me more, until I was lost in sensations that danced between incredible pleasure and quicksilver pain. His blood painted my nails and lips, while mine coated his mouth when I swore, “I’ll never leave you again,” with a drawn-out moan.

He grasped my hair, stopping with a suddenness that made him feel like he’d been turned into a statue. “Swear that on more than what you’re feeling in this moment.”

My body pulsed from an overload of sensations and I was slightly buzzed from drinking his demon-tainted blood, but at that, my mind cleared as if he’d thrown a bucket of icy water onto my brain. He wanted a promise I couldn’t later say I’d been forced to make, or try to brush off as a mere “technicality.” Whatever I said next, I’d better mean it.

I stared into his eyes as I dragged my palm across a fang, letting the blood that dripped down fall onto both of us since I was still on his lap, straddling him.

“By my blood, Ian, I swear I will never abandon you again.”

Determination bordering on ruthlessness flashed in his gaze. “I’ll hold you to that. Now”—his immobility ceased with an arch that rolled heat though me like a fire wave—“let’s see if I can make you scream loud enough to find out if this reinforced room is as far away from everyone as Yonah promised.”

Laughter bubbled out of me. Was that why we were in this ratty hole instead of the mansion’s much nicer accommodations?

My arms tightened around him. “Let’s,” I said, adding huskily, “after all, you promised me a broken bed.”





Chapter 25


We were late for the ball. Not just because we were having sex, though the bed was in pieces and the walls now had several body-size dents in them. No, we were late because I hadn’t realized how exhausted I was until I drifted off in Ian’s arms and woke up a full eight hours later.